


Time Enough

by Hannigram4lyfe



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigram4lyfe/pseuds/Hannigram4lyfe
Summary: Weyoun ponders the changes time has brought and how he will have to deal with them.
Relationships: Damar/Weyoun (Star Trek)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24
Collections: Star Trek: Just in Time Fest





	Time Enough

Time Enough

It takes time to adapt. Even for the Vorta, whose memories jump from one body to the next, consciousness fully formed before new eyes have even opened. Even for them, adaptation takes time. Weyoun finds himself musing on this truth, laying on top of the covers in a bed not his own, in quarters far more temperate than the cold preferred by the Dominion. The body next to him is cool, but so much warmer, in many ways, than anything he has felt before.

Damar is the catalyst for his current contemplation, as he has been for so many other things as well. From the first, the Cardassian has provoked a response in him. He has always prided himself on being able detach himself from circumstance and to react in a manner to benefit the endeavors of his gods. He has weathered difficulties that would have sent lesser envoys into conniptions with nothing more than a reassuring smile to mask his personal disquiet. With Damar, things have been different from the onset.

With Damar, he has been unable to tap into that reserve of composure. His emotions, usually able to be buried below placid depths, roil to the surface with alarming speed. Matters that should be able to be put aside as paltry annoyances cause him to lash out, airing his irritation for all to see. Behaviors that he finds distasteful and should only make note of to himself to help curb or to use to his advantage, lead to waspish remarks and to, what passes for him, borderline temper tantrums. Anger lurks beneath the surface of his skin, ready to erupt with distressing frequency. He has suffered the bane of Dukat’s ignominious company with much easier forbearance and he does not understand why he cannot do the same with Damar.

His confusion does not prevent even more changes from occurring. The Cardassian’s ability to get a rise out of him only begins to shift in even more baffling directions. His frustration with Damar’s reliance on kanar deviates from how his inebriation affects his performance and damages the portrayal of the Dominion's competence to concern for his well-being. He finds that he does not have a liking for the melancholy he can see fuels Damar’s dependence. He wishes there was something else for the Legate to turn to. And time sees even that desire morphing to something that is even more foreign to him: a wish to reach out and touch Damar in his solitude. A wish for a type of connection his very design should deny him. He flounders in the waves of this revelation, not equipped with the tools to bring himself back to the surface.

This strange yearning should be anathema to him. It is a weak-point in what should be his gods’ flawless composition. A failed line of code in the master program. He should be horrified by the transformation, equal parts begging forgiveness for the fact of its existence and having failed to rectify it long since. But somewhere within him, somewhere blasphemously past what is supposed to be the Founders’ endless grasp, he knows this is merely the latest in a long, subtle breaking away from his intended architecture. This is not the first instance of their ‘godly’ engineering unspooling. It is only the first time he has seen it for what it is; a self-awakening.

And this realisation is long in coming. It comes to him in fits and bursts. A bit more settles the first time he tells Damar to go rest, he will take care of this. He argues it will increase his efficiency, but he knows that is only artifice. He only wants the Cardassian to get some real sleep for once, to ease the weight of worry dogging his steps. More slams home the first time he reaches out to touch Damar, with no other purpose than wanting to offer what meagre comfort he can. It becomes more and more terrifyingly clear as insults meant to demean, to wound instead turn to tease, to amuse. And the first time his clumsy overtures, the usually effortless dance of seduction rendered ungainly with actual affection, are welcomed the full weight of the truth slams into him.

Damar has touched him with a power far greater than anything the Founders have ever borne against him. He has awakened parts of him, tenderness, empathy, a soft aching that is almost paralyzing, that he has never before experienced. That these parts of him are Damar's is easy to accept. So much of himself has always belonged to others. Accepting they are his to give to Damar, and always have been, has taken the longest to digest.

He has lived for so long, that this time with Damar should barely register in the span of it. And yet, all of his vast history pales in comparison to what this mere stretch of moments has granted him. It takes time to adapt and he still finds himself fumbling as he continues to come to grips with the new shape he has come to inhabit. He has been profoundly changed, in a disorientingly short amount of time for the ponderously slow to alter Vorta. Damar shuffling closer in his sleep, probably seeking out his warmth, breaks him from the dark well of his thoughts. Reaching out to comb trembling fingers through the strands of Damar’s hair, he has room for one more musing: he can only hope he has had time enough to adapt enough to save this precious gift. 


End file.
